Distraction
by The name's Sherlock Holmes
Summary: Norman Jayden, FBI Agent who solves crimes while issues to solve his own problems.
1. Distraction

Distraction, that's what I needed. Some time. Just a place where I can go to forget. But I can't. I had an addiction. Even if it was somewhere loud, It would distract me from this horror.. Something else. Something I could realize how stupid I am to give in. Something I could rely on. Heh, I don't even know what I was addicted to anymore. The Triptocaine or the ARI.. It had spoiled me, and it was all I really had. I wish I could just go somewhere. Just.. away.

The dream was over, That'd never happen. _Back to work, yes.. work.._ That's all I really had now, at all, really. Norman took off the black shades from his face and rubbed his eyes in exhaustion.

He was mentally kicking himself. _Come on.. this isn't the guy who everybody counts on, no.. have to work.._

He picks up his shades. Before putting them on, he was sort of staring at them. As if they had ruined his life, as if staring down an enemy.

_I can't take it anymore.._ He put them back onto the desk and turned around in his chair, his face resting in his palm. _I need to face the real world, I don't need to change anything.. I just need to.. accept reality, instead of changing it._

He sighed, knowing he wasn't being honest to himself, he knew he couldn't drop it that easily.

He spun around, putting on the shades of lies, and the glove that comes with it.

The environment suddenly changes. A forest or so. ARI had access to the entire FBI database. He lifted his gloved hand into the air and spun it around gently. Revealing files and information on his previous cases. Like he was trying to reassure himself that he was still the good guy he was before, as if he was trying to make sure those cases were real, if it was his imagination. He couldn't tell what was real or what was fake anymore.

He swung his other hand to scroll through the cases, and there was a knock on the door.

He took off his shades and turned to the door. "Come in," He said with a soft voice. "door's open."

The man who came through the door was his boss, Clark Moore. "Ah, Agent Jayden.." He said, a hint of cheer in his voice. As if he finally find the guy he was looking for.

He sighed under his breath.

"Hey Lieutenant." He whispered under his breath. He bowed his head lightly, and extremely softly. He wasn't really happy, he knew it was time for a new case. At least it was another distraction. A distraction for another lie.

Tripto didn't have to be that bad.. I mean.. _Lieutenant_ gave it to me.

"We have another case for you." He said. _Why was this not a surprise.._

"What is it..?" He said, crossing his arms, concentrating has hard as possible.

"All we know is that it was a woman.. a woman pressed up against a wall as if she was sleeping, no stab wounds, no signs of struggle.. nothing.. It's like he cleaned the place twice. There's no evidence anywhere.. We would have found it way later. But the witness went to get groceries before finding her, while on the way to his car, he saw her. He assumed she was some hobo and passed it off as nothing.. Then when he saw her still there.. same position, and went to check her pulse, and she didn't seem to have any."

He clenched his jaw, urging himself to grit his teeth. No, not in front of him.

"We're sending in someone to help you tomorrow, you and your partner can check the scene then." He said, as if he was starting to doubt him.

"I don't need help. I work alone just fine. Hell, I work better alone!" He said, slightly angered by the fact he didn't trust him. He was starting to doubt the fact he cantrust himself anymore, and ARI was just a disguise for that.

"That's not what I mean.. they've just recently been transferred here and you're the only one working on a **serious** case.. I'm sorry if that offends you.. That's not really a way to address your Lieutenant." He explained.

"N-no.. sorry.." He said. He grabbed his shades and walks to the door. "If you don't mind, I'm going to leave early.. especially if I'm only going to need to _work_ tomorrow.." He sighed, hands in his coat pocket.

"Go ahead.." They both walked off.

He opened the door, a small apartment, so basic, he placed his shades on his nightstand, putting his hands in his coat pocket again, pulling out a clear vial with blue substance in it.

_What am I doing..? It isn't worth it.. I can't keep doing this to myself, I just.. need to get in control._

He suddenly got a headache. Placing his hand on his forehead and letting out a groan. He stood up, barely being able to keep himself up, he stumbled and kept himself up with his stumbled into the bathroom, throwing the Tripto into the toilet, and flushing it. He stumbled into the shower and turned it on, sliding down the wall of the shower. "Look at yourself, Norman.."

_I just need a distraction.. Then everything will be better._


	2. Adiction

AUTHORS NOTE: When I say "He", it means the continuation / start of an action. "I" means continuation of an action if he is in the scene alone or talking to himself.. "Norman/Jayden." means changing from a certain person to him.

Addiction.. Is not an easy thing to overcome.

It burrows itself into your mind, and you can't even think anymore. And if you can, you can only think about that one drug you're taking. Like it's your life. And it's you're life until the end of it.. This will be the death of me.

Norman woke up the next morning, the same time as always. Still in a bit of pain from the aftermath of the day before. _I didn't take any at least.._

He stood up, rubbing his eyes and walking to the bathroom. Same as everyday, nothing particularly different about this than the day before. Brushed his teeth, took a shower, got dressed, and drove to work.

He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel on the way to work. Thinking about how his partner will be. They can't be as bad as Blake.. can they..?

When he arrives, he tucks hands into his coat pocket, not feeling that dreaded vial that had ruined his life. A sigh of relief escaped his lips. Though all he could think about was it.

The drug, Triptocain. Tripto for short, was prescribed to me to numb the effects of ARi, which was also given to me, surprise surprise, as a prototype.

I walked inside the office, greeting my fellow crew members with a nod of my head. I finally reached my office, waiting for my _"partner"_. Sitting anxiously and tapping my foot. Checking the clock every few minutes.

Finally, a knock on the door. He stood up, towards the door, and opened it as quickly as possible. Being greeted by the face a female brunette,

He instantly introduced himself. "Hello, you must be my new partner..? My name is Norman."

"Ah, so you must be the famous agent everybody's talking about.." She grinned slightly.

It seemed like something out of a dream, a beautiful smile, just for a second, he was distracted.

"Yeah.. I guess I am." He was beginning to doubt he was the great guy everyone thought he was. He moved away from the walkway from the door, allowing her to get in.

She walked in, sitting at the desk that was set up some time yesterday. He sat in his chair, about to put on his shades.

"Oh, I forgot to ask your name." He put on his shades and the glove. The glove on his right hand and the scenery changed close to instantly.

"My name Agent Cameron.. But personally, you can call me.. simply Cameron.." She turns her attention to the shades. "Hm.. ARI..?"

"Yeah, how'd you know..?" He said, taking off his shades and examining them.

"Well.. for one.. they say right on the side of your glasses.. two, I've seen the prototype.." She said. Great, she was already trying to profile me. He sighed under his breath again, and put them down.

"You alright..? It seems like mentioning the glasses.. well.. aggravated you.." He turned towards her. _If only she knew they did. _"No.. It's alright.." Looking up towards her, he noticed something. Her eyes. How did I not notice them before..? Before it seemed like he was staring, he looked down.

"Okay. So tell me about your case..?" She pushed all attention towards him.

"To be honest.. I don't really know much about it. Me and you were supposed to work on it today. All we know is there's no evidence, no traces or anything.. Typical me case.."

"So.. have you got any evidence..?" She says.. _clearly _she doesn't know what to do. I don't blame her, I don't either.

"Well, we've got some DNA and profiling on the victim, and her phone.. Could have some numbers." He pulled out the file, done with ARI for now. He flipped over to her name.

"Trisha Parks.." He handed the file over to her. She scanned over it for a while. "And the phone numbers..?" She handed back the file.

He took out a piece of paper and handed it to her. She read it, a surprising amount of phone numbers. "This is insane.. how many people does one person need to keep on their phone..?"

"Well, It's possible they could have gone to a club and log a suspects number in her phone." He said.

"No, usually it's the other way around. It wouldn't really be like that for known reasons."

"Yeah.. makes sense.." He looked down. He feels like a failure all of the sudden._ I've done a ton of cases before.. How can I not do this..? Maybe I'm underestimating this.. I can do this._

"I'll read this file until something sparks.." She turned around and started reading.

"Yeah.. alright.." He turned around and put on his shades. He felt kind of anxious using ARI in front of someone else. Yet he had to. He flipped and spun his gloved hand, he had to have missed something.

Soon after, it had already turned 8 o'clock. Cameron stood up and sighed. "I can't seem to find anything worth anything.. Tomorrow we can start looking for suspects.."

"Okay, seems good." She walked out. He rubbed his eyes and leaned his head on his arm and felt like he couldn't take it anymore.

On the way to his apartment he passed my a club, staring it down, he finally budged and walked in. The music, the people, it was something loud enough so he would be distracted.

He head to the bar and sat on a stool. "Shot of Whiskey, please." He laid his head on the counter and kept it there until his shot was poured.

He took his drink and sipped it quickly. He wasn't the type to drink, but this was the time he needed it.

Suddenly, another headache arose. "Excuse me." He stumbled towards the bathroom and to the sink, using the wall as his guide. He splashed water from the sink onto his face. _I can't take it anymore._ He took out the vial, opened it, and breath it in deeply.

A deep rush of ecstasy rushed through his body and took a deep breath of air.

He pushed through the bathroom door and stood in a corner. As if picking prey.

He finally found someone to approach, smiling and as happy as he could be. Well, as it seemed to be.

They next found themselves at his apartment, lips to lips. Going to clubs wasn't a different thing to him, yet it wasn't a daily thing either.

They meant something to me, at the moment at least. He threw off his coat and it wasn't different from anything else.

They were just a distraction. Just another girl. But they felt like something special to him, maybe because he wanted it to be, wanted it to be something else. Like he wasn't just introducing himself to another lie.

They kissed, and it felt like something to him, something that he could count on. But the next day, it always felt dull, like nothing really came out of it.

And as suspected, it did. It felt like just another day again. Nothing different, nothing special.

She got dressed, and left. With just a simple; "Call me."

He nodded. Which he knew of course, was just another lie.

He got up and took a shower. As if to wash away the lies he said to all those women, to wash away the broken promises and pity he felt for all those people he had lied to.

He felt sorry, guilty, for what he had done. All he wanted was one night not to feel alone. One night of distraction.

I wanted a distraction, and I got it. Was it worth it..


	3. Encouragement

When you're encouraged, you have a reason to do something. You feel like you can do something yourself. And once you're encouraged, you can do

anything you put your mind to. Because you want to.

Norman was already at work, his partner hadn't arrived yet. Not many people were here anyway. I usually come here early. That way I can get a case over with. What else is there to do anyway?

He was writing down possible suspects from her phone.

_Maybe the murderer knew he.. no.. that's stupid._ He kept looking.

After a while, he had already wrote a list. A few girls, and her parents.

She still hadn't came. _Maybe I over-estimated her._ _I really shouldn't do that. Just wishful thinking._

He looked at the list. Wondering who to call first.

She had finally arrived, he was worried she never would. "Where _were_ you?"

"I'd been researching the crime scene for one spot that hadn't been clean." She sighed and slopped onto her chair.

"Find anything..?" _No, she couldn't have possible found anything._

"Well.. no.." _Of course not.._

"Well, no suspects.. though one thing, gives us quiet a bit to go on." _Huh.. maybe she's better than I thought._

"What is it..?" _Please be something, please be something._

"A murder weapon.." She sighed. "Makes no real sense. She had no wounds anywhere on her body." _No sense to you.._

"Well, that's the thing. Not for this murder.. but maybe." He thought about it for a second.

"What..?" _If only I knew.. If only.._

"I really.. can't put this together. What was the murder weapon..?"

"Poison.." She said, looking down. It seemed like she was disgusted.

"Wouldn't that be traceable..?" He said. I'm so confused. What else.. will the body be gone..?

"No.. some poisons are untraceable." She nodded. "Such as Ricin.."

"I have a list of people we can call, we can see where she went every now and then.. Maybe we can find a suspect too."

"Sure.. I'm going the get a coffee from the cafeteria, you want anything..?"

"Blech, the coffee there is horrible. I'd rather drink pure caffeine."

A grimace stuck to her face for a while. "Alright.. let's go somewhere else then..?"

He felt himself tense up a little, for an unknown reason. "Maybe for a while. We really need to work on this." He waved his file in the air.

1:00 PM.

The smell of fresh coffee roamed the air. How great it was to smell coffee that didn't taste like it grew dust for years. I sipped my coffee and it finally felt like I could taste something. The coffee at the cafeteria was just god awful. It felt good to go outside again. For something other than a horrible walk home.

"Do you come here often..?" That's a stupid question. She was transferred! He put a hand in his pocket and let out a sigh before taking another sip of coffee.

"Heh, I wish.. We don't have this type of thing where I'm from." She looked down towards her coffee and swished it around in her cup.

_Suspend the awkwardness. Figure something out that won't make it worse._

"So.. why were you transferred?" He said, still keeping one hand in his pocket as if protecting something, swirling the vial in between fingers.

"I really wish I could tell you. But to be honest, I barely know. All I know is I was sent here to help you. I had been doing pretty well, but it feels like they were just trying to get rid of me.

She looked up slightly, but it didn't feel like she was opening up to me. Like she knew something bad about me that I didn't even know.

He sighed. _I wasn't always good in awkward situations, and this was completely awkward._

"Look, thanks for the coffee and all, but I need to.. _we_ need to work on the case." She stood up and walked away.

He laid his head on the table. _I didn't want this, I didn't even need a partner. I just want this stress to go away._

On the way back to work, he was beginning to get paranoid. _I just needed a clue, just one goddamned idea on what to do._

He was getting a bit dizzy, he fell up against the wall of an alley and everything was getting blurry. This can't be withdrawl..

He heard the splash of a puddle further through the alley, he pulled out his weapon as it was starting to get less blurry.

As soon as his vision returned, he noticed another body. And heard a voice; "How does it feel to be right in front of the killer and lose them just like that..?" The body, just as the previous one. I was so close..

; Cameron ;

She was already at work, calling some of the numbers Norman had written down, first I was going to call the mother.

Ring ring.. ring ring..

"Hello..?" An oldish voice said, she sounded like she was in her 50's.. but not like the typical old lady.

"Hello, this is Agent Cameron, I'm calling regarding your daughters death."

Suddenly, the line got quiet. Only to hear the calls and buzzes of the offices behind me.

"Hello? Are you still there..?" She was beginning to get impatient.

"Y..yes.. I'm just in the process of mourning.. and that wasn't a good thing to hear." She says, her voice cracking.

Suddenly, Lieutenant Moore walked in, just hearing him speak made me angry. I just wanted to get this over with, enough of the interruptions.

"Hold on." She put the phone down and turned to Moore.

"What is it..?" She barked. Just slightly, just enough for him to know she wasn't in the mood.

"There's been another murder."

And then it went silent.

; Norman ;

I walked back to the office, hands in my pocket, this was just enough to distract me.

_I was so close, yet so far._

_I need to make up for that, This will be my encouragement._


	4. Betrayal

Author's Note: "I" instead of "he" will be said alot, because it's sort of a narration, him telling his story or something.

Several years ago, before this case, before the Origami Killer.

I had a partner. Her name was Alice.

We had been partners until a few months before the Origami Killer. It wasn't necessarily love at first sight.

In fact, we barely even spoke. We'd talk about the case, give a profiling, then we'd part ways.

We never spoke much, until a homicide case that we investigated. Then she just started opening up to me.

She would talk to me personally, and it's like we were insuperable. Or so I thought. I thought it was all going to be right again.

"Find anything on the case yet?" She asked me, just reading the file. T_his case was pretty easy. It was sloppy. It confused me. If you're going to murder someone.. why not do a good job at least?_

"Heh, yet? There's evidence everywhere!" He chuckled, she laughed too, but it seemed to be forced. As if she tensed up.

"Are you alright..?" I turned my chair. She was beginning to open up. I was beginning to feel like he could count on her when I needed her. Whenever I couldn't solve something, she'd always help me.

"Yeah.. it's just.. Isn't it weird that there's so much evidence yet we still haven't caught to killer..?" She smiled towards me, it looked so real. _Perfect thing to cheer me up whenever I needed it_.

The room fell silent for a while, but I just nodded my head. "I feel the same way. Maybe we can check the scene again, something we missed."

She nodded lightly and stood up, this is when I knew there was actually something wrong.

We arrived at the crime scene.. _well, not the crime scene, but place of interest._

She slid down the wall of the warehouse, her face in her palms and she began to sob.

She had always been there for me, always helped me, and she deserved for me to return the favor.

I kneeled down to her. "Don't say 'nothing', don't make excuses, What's wrong?" I began to feel sorry for her, I felt the same thing once. The silence of the warehouse and then echo of the voice made me feel anxious.

"What's the problem!? I'm a prime suspect! They're going to lock me up Norman! Unless I find the real killer, I-"

"Unless _we_ find the real killer."

"Norman, I'm scared. There's no use. They've left clues everywhere, but we still can't find anything. It's like the clues are all false. Placed to trick us."

"I swear, with all these leads, all this evidence and all these suspects.. I swear, I will help you. Like you help me."

She wiped her tears and stood up. "I'll start looking for evidence." I nodded and walked away.

In the corner, I saw a box.._ How did I not see that before..?_

I walked towards it. When I opened it, I saw the final piece towards the puzzle, a murder weapon.

"Norman.." I heard a light voice behind me say.

I spun around to see Alice was behind me. "Yeah?"

She walked towards me slowly, my heart pounding quickly with every step she took.

I saw the look in her eyes, complete fear and hopelessness. Something I had well experienced before.

I took a step closer, putting my hand on her cheek. Well expecting rejection. I kissed her softly. Not expecting her to return it.

It was filled with emotion, the best thing I've ever had in my life. A miracle, a few seconds of desire, just a few seconds of complete ecstasy.

I pulled away, even though I wanted it more than I showed. I had to stop, I didn't want to cause her to lose any respect for me, I didn't want her to hate me.

I looked down, I felt the aftermath of the kiss, when I had looked up, she was gone. I had assumed she ran away, went back the the office. I felt so guilty. A few seconds of selfishness, in return for the only one in my life to leave me.

I walked back to the office. Expecting to find her there. To apologize or not. To at least know if I did anything wrong. I wanted to rest my head, resign if I had to.

Once I arrived at the office, I went to check her desk. Maybe she was working on the case and it would all be okay. I'd at least be able to say goodbye. I was already struggling as it is.

She wasn't there. The desk was gone. It's as if she never existed. I rushed over to Lieutenant's office. I felt anxious, sweat droplets falling down my forehead. _No, had to stay calm. But to see her leave without me even saying sorry, or goodbye._

I pressed my hand on the doorknob, already feeling the cold feeling on my spine of knowing the answer. Please, please be here. I opened the door and took a deep breath. "Lieutenant, where's Agent Alice?"

"She resigned, Norman. You're on your own on this one. He began looking back down on his papers. Like he didn't care. Like she wasn't even a part of the case.

"You don't think.." I froze up. "She's not the killer!" I barked out defensively. _No.. It can't be. I knew her, she'd never do that kind of thing. I know she wouldn't._

"We have evidence against her, Norman. It's everywhere. Did you even look at the evidence..? Did you find the murder weapon yet? That kind of information can put her in longer."

_The weapon.. I just had it.. no.. she couldn't. She wouldn't._ "No.. I.. don't." He sighed. "You've not been focusing, Norman. Seems like you'll do better without her. Besides, you're usually relieved when solving a case.. What happened..?"

"Nothing.. Lieutenant, I need to go review the evidence." He nodded and I took that as I sign to leave. I put on my ARI and examined the evidence. The watch.. the killer was so untidy, there has to be prints.

I was shocked to see the result. It.. had her DNA on it. Finger prints. It looks like she was either tugging on it or trying to steal it from the wearer. What had she done..? I dialed her number, it had always been in my phone in case she was needed.

She picked up, I was greeted with a rushed voice, and hurried breath. "Norman, I can exp-" I cut her off. I couldn't take it. No excuses. I just needed to know she wasn't the killer.

"No explanation, no lies. Just the truth, please tell me you didn't do it, just tell me you were examining the watch. Anything, please." I was nervous, scared. I wanted the truth, but also didn't want to know she did it.

"I.. I'm going to be honest, Norman.. I did it. I'm sorry. I don't know why. I just got so.. ugh.. Angry. Like I needed to. I'm sorry, please. Forgive me." She was cut off with a rushed voice. A mix between anger, disappointment, betrayal, and the fact he couldn't accept it. You can't accept someone you love did that.

I shuttered. "I can't accept that. I.. after all we've been through.. Why did you have to do this to yourself? Do you know how deep you are in? I thought.." I was silent. I didn't know what to say.

"Norman, I can't stay on for too long.. They're probably tracing me now. I-" The line suddenly cut off. I really wish it didn't have to end like this. The only one I could count on. The one who was always there for me. Was using me.

Lieutenant rushed in the room, without even a simple knock on the door. "Norman!" He shouted. "Alice is on the run. We need you now! At the warehouse! STAT!"

I stood up in a quick rush. Forced to arrest the one I loved. Forced to betray her like she had me. I can't even remember the reason I joined the FBI anymore. I got my gun from my desk and put it in my pocket.

As I drove to the warehouse, my heart rushed. Just as fast as when I kissed her. Strange how two opposite things can make you feel the exact same way. It was a nightmare.

I parked at the warehouse, she was no where to be found. I was the first one to get here. No one else was here but supposedly my ex-partner. And I was the one who had to catch her.

I walked slowly into the warehouse. Pointing my gun forward, holding it with two hands. I took a deep breath and looked for her. She emerged from the corner. I faced my gun towards her, my hand shaking.

"Norman, come on. Don't do this. It was a mistake. I didn't mean to hurt you. I didn't know how much I meant to you. I know I probably ruined your life. But just think back, all the things we did together."

I knew she was sincere. I knew she meant it, I did think back.. Vaguely. The times she blamed herself for my mistakes. The times I would hug her. The times I knew I loved her.

She kicked the gun out of my hand, it slid across the room and someone walked in. I ran and rushed to grab the gun, I was faster than her. Despite all her training, all those chases we had. It still wasn't enough.

I quickly grabbed the gun, and FBI rushed in and all pointed at her at once. She looked at me. That look of fear. She meant it, but of course. If I was about to be arrested, I'd kick a gun out of my hands too.

"NORMAN! SHOOT!" I didn't know what to do, my hands began to shake. That look in her eyes. That so obvious look. I had taken psychology before. I knew that look. I knew that painful look. I couldn't take it.

I lowered my gun slowly. "CHRIST SAKE, NORMAN. WHAT ARE YOU DOING. SHOOT HER!" Lieutenant shouted at me. He never felt sorry for anyone. He would never understand. He was so heartless.

"YOU CAN SHOOT HER IF IT'S SO IMPORTANT TO YOU." I shouted to him at the top of my lungs. Lieutenant made a signal in the air I've known before. A signal to shoot. "NO!"

Three shots. One on her back, one on her left arm, one on her right leg. They rushed towards her towards her to arrest her. I kneeled besides her. "No.. no.." I said with rushed breaths.

"I love you Norman." She said lightly. As much as I loved her back, as much as I wanted to believe her. I couldn't. I couldn't believe her anymore, nor anyone else. The ambulance picked her up and put her into a stretcher. Before she left, she said one last thing.

_"How does it feel to be right in front of the killer and lose them just like that..?"_


	5. Anticipation

He put on his ARI shades and looked down at the piano keys. Pressing each on down slowly, practicing first, before going to the actual song. He pressed each key gently and began to speed up. He began to play Moonlight Sonata. It was almost morning, though he would not be working for a few hours.

; Cameron ;

She groaned and rolled, trying to get to sleep. _This case was keeping me awake. All I could do was think about it, and if I fell asleep, I'd just have restless dreams about how to solve the case. Maybe it was a good thing. But I just want some sleep._

She stood up and walked my way to the bathroom. She could barely keep my eyes open, yet couldn't sleep at the same time. She turned on the sink and splashed cold water on to her face. She slowly made her way to look up towards the mirror.

Her long brown hair went past her shoulders and her bangs made it almost impossible to see unless she tucked it behind her ears. Though bending down her head to turn on the sink and splash herself with water just made her bangs show on her forehead again.

She had a slight scar on her forehead from an accident at work. Criminals can be so damn insensitive. She had she had slightly tanned skin that she _gained_ from being out in the sun in all the cases she's done before.

She looked left to see the clock on the wall, which showed clearly; 6:14. _Great. Why did I have to stay up so late?_ _I needed to get to sleep. Though there was no point. I have work in 3 hours.. _She sighedto herselfand tucked her bangs behind her ears and sat down on her bed.

She got dressed and headed to work, bored and slightly sleepy, she'd just have to endure the dreaded coffee from the cafeteria. It was the closest and she had work to do. She needed to get leads on the case and Trisha's mom finally gave in and gave us some worthwhile information, a boyfriend.

She finally had a lead to go on. Something where she finally had a clue. This impossible case turned into a possible one. Sure, it may not be a murder weapon, but it was better than nothing at all.

She got out of her car, the sun barely peering over the buildings. The sun was showing yet the cold air was still blowing on her. She entered the office and sat down on her desk. Well, time for work.

; Norman ;

Taking off his glasses, he really didn't feel like taking them. He had grown to _rely_ on them. He had grown to _need_ them. He leaned the back of his head on the back of his chair. They'd spoiled him. All his glory. Was it really thanks to _them_? Could he really go without them? _Yes.. I could. _

He put them on his desk. He stood up and grabbed his jacket, just to look back to the shades. J_ust because I could go without them, doesn't mean it wasn't the property of the FBI. _If they ever needed them back he needed them to do so.

He stuffed them into the right pocket of his coat and as he was walking to the door, he was greeted by the mirror of his bathroom as the door was still open. He put on a grin and straightened his tie, which goes with his black coat well. He closed the bathroom door and left the apartment. Hearing the much known click of the door which shows it's locked.

He arrived at work, early in the morning. 7:00 am at least. He walked to his office and saw that Cameron was already there. He smiled lightly. He didn't expect anyone to be here earlier than him. He was usually the first person to arrive at work. _Shows what I know._

He sat down at his chair and there was a file placed down on his desk. "What's this..?" He opened it and skimmed it vaguely while awaiting her response. Phone numbers and names. _Suspects?_

"List of possible suspects that we can call to get more information from." She said, not even taking a second to look up from her paper. She was clearly busy and doing her best. _I feel stupid even asking._

"Did you do this all yesterday?"_ Leslie Parks, Daniel Parks, Jamie Miller, Christian Miller, Franklin Hall?_ There was a question mark near Franklin's name. Must mean he's a prime suspect. "Yeah." She said lightly. She didn't give herself enough credit.

"Well, today is the profiling, then we can try and contact Franklin Hall. Hope you're ready." He joked. She probably didn't even know he was joking. She chuckled. "Luckily you're the one giving the profiling." _Aha._ "Just kidding. I'm going to have to." _Ouch._

A few minutes later. He stood up, motioning for her to come with." _Time for profiling. Hope she could handle it. Who am I kidding, of course she could. It was almost time for profiling. This is her chance to prove it to everyone else._

They both walked to the conference room, and before it started, he walked towards her. "Remember, Moore can be as heartless as he is deceiving. Don't let anything he says get to you, he really could care less what he says. He doesn't know what he's talking about.

She nods. "Thanks for the encouragement, but I think I've got it under control. I've dealt with all sorts of stuff back home." She walks away, by now everyone had come in. I was surprised by her courage, but she shouldn't count on herself that much. She couldn't know Moore at all.

The lights dimmed and she clicked the remote control, she took a deep breath. _So did I_. "So far, our only place of interest is the club she had supposedly went to. Supposedly-" She was interested. He put his face in his palm. _No.. no no no. Not right now._

"Excuse me. But _supposedly_..?" He, _surprisingly_, Moore said. Clearly not happy. Of course not. When was he happy at all? When would he ever be satisfied with an answer that is clearly obvious? It was oblivious to him.

"Excuse me.. _Moore_." She said, calmly. Yes, first time everyone is calm. No one is ever used to it on their first try. You'll get used to it. We all get used to it after a while. Just keep your calm and maybe he'll easy on you.

"But with the evidence, it's easier to make smart guesses. Heh, not even guesses. I only said supposedly because we haven't even gone their yet. So should I just say definitely? Or would you get upset with me for guessing then too?"

Great, first mistake, talking back to the boss. "Just go on please." Moore rolled his eyes. Impatient yet clearly he's the one who interrupted her in the first place. She clears her throat and begins to speak.

"As I was saying, me and Norman will be going to the Place of Interest after we contact a prime suspect. It's not much to go on, but it's more than we had before. So better than nothing."

He nodded lightly and the lights came back on, the sudden flash of light hurt my eyes and I had to blink violently to get them adjusted. He stood up, ready to call the suspect. He's been through worse, what's the worse that could happen?

After getting the address, Norman knocked on Franklin's door, he lived in a 3 story apartment complex. The place stunk of either spoiled food or undiscarded trash. So much for a fancy apartment.

Franklin opened the door and greeted us with a nod. "You the cops?" Franklin looked around frantically, as if to hide something. She flashed her badge. "Yes, we're with the FBI, we need to ask you some questions.

Franklin tried to close the door, he quickly put his foot in the way so he couldn't close it. "We have the legal right to ask you questions. You have the legal right to not answer them, but that's not such a good idea."

"Oh yeah? What if I decide not to talk?" He looked so confident. His hair brown was all messed up, and due to him wearing a shirt-sleeved shirt, you can clearly see the many tattoos on his right arm.

He looked as if he was stressed out. "Then we also have the right to take you into custody until you do. So will you let us in or not?" The suspect thought for a few seconds, as if it wasn't a simple choice already.

"Come in, it might be dirty, I really haven't had the time to clean." The suspect moved from the doorway, him and Cameron walked in. They were instantly greeted with a foul smell, it made them want to gag.

"Augh, what is that?" She said, just loud enough for the suspect to hear. The place looked like it was robbed, trash and books thrown everywhere. The place looked like a complete mess.

"Yeah, I've been under house arrest, can't even leave the house to take out the trash.." The suspect pointed to his ankle collar. "Doesn't your supervisor take it out themself?" She was plugging her nose, wouldn't blame her.

"They only come twice a day. Once at morning, once at night. The other times they just call me, and if I don't answer, they alert the authorities. It happened once when I was asleep, was weird though." She looked towards him. "You made this mess in a day!?" She said with disgust.

"Yeah.. been hard without Trisha." The suspect looked down. She unplugged her nose. "Do you know anything about the death of Trisha Parks? Anyone who might have hurt her or wanted to hurt her? Any place she might go?" The suspect shrugged.

"No. Nothing.. She went to clubs alot, and come back early in the morning, looking physically exhausted. I accused her of cheating, but she'd always shout at me about how she wasn't, or how she was too tired to talk about it."

"Would you ever do anything after she had come back? Anything out of anger because you didn't like her lies?" He asked, but when he asked the question, the suspects eyes just seemed to dart the room and he rushed out the door.

"HEY!" They ran after him and the suspect and Norman both pulled out their guns. The suspect pointed his gun at him and shot, it lightly graced his cheek, barely even hurt, just felt like a rush of air going past his cheek, then the pain kicked in.

"Great," He grabbed his radio. "We've got a runner." He ran, jumped, anything he could do to catch the suspect. He ended up getting away. Though his ankle bracelet would alert his supervisor and the police. The suspect escaped from the hotel into the streets.

He panted and ended up right besides Cameron, she was quicker than him. She'd probably taken training longer than me. Seemed like she was just more athletic. "Great, he got away." He sighed.

"Look, I'm sorry. I guess chasing after a guy who has fled more bank robberies and probably ran for his life a few times, isn't my strong suit." She seemed a bit defensive. Which was not what I was trying to cause.

"That's not what I'm talking about, it was mainly my fault. I should have been right behind you." She turned away. Looking like I had insulted her so she didn't want to look at me anymore.

"Lets just go to the place of interest. The police can handle this." She turned to look towards me, "Are you alright?" He put his hand on his cheek and it he had apparently wounded it more than he thought.

"Huh, barely hurt." He put his hand over it to keep blood from coming out. It hurt on the touch. He quickly moved his hand away from the wound. It hurt pretty badly, but it was barely a scratch.

"Ugh, great." She took a cloth from her pocket and put pressure on the wound. It hurt and I tensed up a little bit. Surprising how a tiny little scratch could cause so much pain. Especially for me.

"Is that used?" He joked, trying to ease the tension of the silence that had recently fallen. These kind of situations just made him want to crawl under a rock for a few days.

"Yeah, I keep it anyway. No, it's not used, genius."

"No need to get defensive, I got hurt, remember?" He pointed to the wound.

"Haha, very funny." She actually chuckled a little bit.

She pressed a little harder, and he tensed up again. "You might want to get that checked out, I'll check out the club, you go to the doctor. That way I won't get into any of the trouble cause by you getting hurt. Besides, if it hurts so bad, you really do need to get it checked, all jokes aside."

"Okay.. I'll go. Good luck."

She gave him a reassuring smile. Which just made him feel better.

At the infirmary / hospital, they checked out his wound, pressing on it. _How many times do they have to push on it? Do they want to hurt me?_ "It seems like some shrapnel from the bullet cut your cheek." _No duh, thanks for making it feel better by pushing on it._

"I can get you some simple over-the-counter medicine for you. Some Aleve should do fine, it should just hurt as a result of.. well I shouldn't have to tell you why a cut hurts." The doctor handed me some Aleve tablets in a bottle, there were only three in there. "Three should be enough, take one every 12 hours if it still hurts."

With a nod, Norman left the building and back to his apartment. The not so plain apartment. Living here so long, he had already integrated a Piano into here. He put a hand in his coat pocket and felt two things he hadn't even thought about all day.

Tripto and his ARI Shades.

He walked over to the bathroom and got a cloth, something to rinse the wound. He put warm water onto the cloth and wiped the wound. Dispite the severe pain. He got a cup of water, and took a pill of Aleve.

He sat down at his piano and cracked his knuckles. He begun playing a song starting off slowly, then building up. After playing it long enough, he laid down on his bed. _Just need to close my eyes for a minute.._

It seemed like just a second, he heard a knock on the door, he looked at his watch. 5pm, everyone would have left work by now. He sighed.

He walked to the door and opened it, Cameron was standing in front of him. "Hi, I just came to check up on you." She looked at his cheek. "Your wound already looks.. better?"

"Yeah.. thanks."

She saw the piano at the back of the room. "Can you play anything?" He turned around and assumed she meant the piano. "On the piano? Sure."

"Do you mind.. playing something?"

He nodded and let her in. She walk through the doorway and closed the door behind her.

He sat down on the chair in front of the piano. And put on his ARI glasses.

She sat next to him. He began playing Home Is Ahead... The World Behind by Matthew Fisher.

She listened to it quietly, it was beautiful, but she looked up to see the ARI glasses on him. Maybe the only reason he's so good, is because of them. They probably guide him through every step.

She slowly took off his glasses. Even without the glasses he kept going, in fact, his eyes were closed.

She continued to listen silently. It was rude to even touch his shades. She rested her head on his shoulder.

He smiled, and kept going until the end of the song. She stood up and walked towards the door, he followed with.

"Thanks for the music, and I hope your wound gets better.. I'm sorry if I was too much of an inconvenience." She put a hand on his cheek.

It didn't hurt, he didn't really feel anything. Just a complete rush of desire.

She backed off, which was no surprise to him. She just walked away. He closed the door behind her and laid back down.

_I just want this case to end, but part of me doesn't as well, part of me knows she's just going to leave as soon as it's all over._


	6. Desire

I have an addiction.

It starts with a rush of pure ecstasy. A rush of your heart and your breath quickens.

The smile, the quick breath. Everything stops for a second and you feel amazing.

Until it's over.

The drug leaves your system and you just feel dull inside. Forgetting the rush of excellence that you had just experienced. Forgetting why you even do this in the first place.

I go to bed alone, and wake up alone. Some call this loneliness, I call this normal.

Everyday I wake up, same day, same story. Wake up, Solve crimes, go to bed.

Most of the time now a days, I don't solve the crime by the end of the day. This one was different.

It was another day at work, today we were going to check out the place of interest. The place was examined yesterday, but it was no good. We were going undercover. This was something I never hoped to do.

_It wasn't because it was bad.. okay, it was._

He sat down on his chair, he searched through his evidence to find some excuse to get out of undercover work. He couldn't tell if he hated going undercover because it was dishonest or because he needed to pretend to be someone he wasn't. Though he had already gotten used to a dress code. And as shameful as it is to admit, he has gone to a club or two.

He had already gotten the acting down. He had tricked enough people to know how to do it convincingly. Not that he could trick someone _without_ being convincing anyway.

He had 4 hours. At 5 pm the club opens. At least there would be someone else there with him. Cameron.

It was better than nothing, anything to get this damn case over with. I was usually interested in cases. It usually meant something to me. The ticking clock, the smell of burnt and old coffee. All that, whilst I hate my job. Doesn't seem worth it.

His ungloved hand was in the air, sliding back and forth. Trying to look for any information on Agent Alison Cooper. _Screw classified information._

He didn't even find a single speck of information. It's like she never existed. I was sure she did of course, and this is the guy who debates over reality.

"Not anything? You've gotta be kidding me!" He shouted, hitting his gloved hand on the desk in anger.

"This piece of crap isn't worth anything." He took off his glasses and slid them across the desk. He covered his face in his palms, keeping his elbows on the desk as support. _Keep it together Norman.._

When he looked up again, he saw his shades were right next to a letter on his desk. Still enraged, he ripped open the envelope and read the letter.

"How does it feel to be so close yet so far from the killer, Norman?"

Convinced someone was toying with him, he crumbled the letter into a ball and threw it into the trash.

; Cameron ;

4:30 pm.

_I've never been the type to go to clubs._

_I'd go to one or two in my glory days, but that's only if my friends convinced me that I didn't need to do anything._

_Then I was hooked._

_I'd take a pill of ecstasy, a shot of alcohol, then I'd hit the dance floor a few times._

The thought made her cringe. She wasn't that type of person anymore. She didn't want to be that kind of person, she never wanted to be that person in the first place. Anyone who would be like that made her sick. So hypocritical.

She wouldn't lie. She wouldn't be a hypocrite. Especially since everyone at the club would be like that. There was no point hating a whole building worth of people.

_Don't forget the main point, Cam. Walk in, get the suspect, walk out. Don't fall into any old habits._

A ponytail, a black dress, and some slip-on shoes were all she needed to go. Augh, why do I need to dress as like this?

I understand not wanting to look suspicious. But this? It's just sickening.

She tucked an earpiece behind her hair and sighed

; Norman ;

He was already in "uniform", if it's even justified as that.

A white undershirt, black coat, black pants, black tie, and plain shoes. Nothing that some average nobody wouldn't wear.

He knocked on the bathroom door. "Hurry up in there, Cameron. We've gotta go."

Stressful few days. Hadn't even been a week yet, and we'd done the worst things I've never done.

"Just a second!" She shouted back.

Tapping his feet on the ground, it made a slight echo across the room.

The door slowly opened. before opening it completely, she peeked her head out. She finally opened the door to show herself.

"How do I look?" She asked.

Red dress, ponytail, just the basics. Though it's amazing what the basics can do.

"Well, I'd tell you.." He looked down. Just the average FBI uniform. "But I don't really have much of a fashion sense."

She rolled her eyes childishly. We left then.

x

The music blared the club, just making him want to plug his ears. He'd still never get used to the music they'd play here.

She tapped him and he turned around. "Keep your eye on the mission."

He nodded and walked the opposite direction of her. He put on his shades and looked for the suspect.

Names began to appear over peoples head. He couldn't find anyone of the name 'Christopher Miller' here. Or at least not in sight.

He took off the shades and put them deep into his pocket. He pressed two fingers up against his ear piece. "Find anyone?" He asked bluntly.

"Nope, at least.. not yet.."

_Give me a break_. He sighed.

He got another headache and his nose started bleeding. He wiped his finger under his nose to see a crimson red streak upon it. _Shit, not now._

Another horrible moment of feeling loss of control. He felt like he gave his life over to the drug. His hands started shaking and he hid them behind his back whilst they continued to shake.

Walking forward, all he could focus on the drug. No matter how much he he wanted to focus on the suspect. He kept walking mindlessly forward until he reached the bathroom.

He wanted to throw it away, but he couldn't. He just wanted to take some. The music slowly faded away and came back constantly. He slid down the wall and brought his legs to his chest, hands on his ears.

He checked his pocket, he needed it. It's something that felt like if he didn't take it he'd die.

The Tripto, it wasn't there.._ No... no._

He was going insane. _Just.. stay.. in con..trol.. focus.. on the.. case._.

He sat there until he regained sanity. When he finally stood up, He stumbled forward. He left the bathroom and began to get back to the case.

; Cameron ;

I was apparently the "bait" of the mission. My job was to attract the attention of Chris. No wonder I had to wear this obscene clothing.

_Yeah, this is going to work alright.. right.._ She looked around, hand on hip, and looked for a bouncer.

Right there in the corner, there one is.

She walked towards him, "Hey, you know where anyone here named Christopher Miller is?"

"Lady, you're going to have to do a lot more to get to him."

_It looked like he was patting me down with his eyes._ She shuttered and walked off. She felt like she needed to take a shower just by being here.

Picture picture picture.. What does he look like? Probably just sitting at the center with a bunch of women by him. _I'd be surprised he'd be able to get a life._

She pulled the ponytail out of her hair and looked around for him.

Ah yes, the profile picture.

She sat at the bar, leaning in seductively to the bartender.

"Hey.. do you know where Christopher Miller is?"

"Lady, He_'_s skipped out on enough tabs, he basically needs to pay for the entire building. He should be around the center."

"Thanks." She backed off and pressed on her earpiece.

"I think I've found him. At the center."

No answer.

"I'll deal with this myself then."

She walked through the crowd, the grinders, everyone. Until she made it to the center.

There he was, on a couch with women around each side of him.

She took a deep breath, using her old club skills to try and reel in his attention.

First off, gain attraction. She stood on a stage, shaking slightly, and started moving her body to the music.

She began to calm down as she realized it might actually work.

She seemed to have at least gotten him to look at her. The music doing most of the work, her body doing the rest.

A bouncer came up to her and whispered to her to go over to Chris.

A bouncer? Either he owns the club, or he's stupid enough to spend his money on them.

_Come on, it can't be that easy._

_I wish it was simple enough to just walk up to him and talk. But nothing is ever that simple, I know from experience._

She walked up to him and flashed the badge from her bag. "Agent Cameron, FBI."

"Aw, you looked too attractive up there to be FBI. I was hoping for so-"

"Some action?" She rolled her eyes. "We're here about the case of the death of Trisha Parks and Leslie June."

"Trisha..? I knew her but who the hell is Leslie? Sounds like a librarian." He tapped his fingers on his lap.

"Look, do you know anything or not?" She snapped. She was beginning to get impatient.

"Trisha was a regular here. She'd dance a bit, head to the bar, She was MY regular too."

; Norman ;

He managed to find her out of all of the croud, looking exhausted as always.

"Is there a problem here?" He asked while raising an eyebrow.

"Nope, just complimenting the pretty lady here." He stood up and put a hand on her shoulder.

She started to tense up, sending him an emotional message to save her.

"Hey, back off!" He barked towards him, clenching his fist, yet tries not to rage

"Oh, are you two an item?" _Was he purposely trying to piss me off?_

"I SAID BACK OFF!" He shouted aggressively. He felt the adrenaline rush through his body.

She started to back away. "Okay, Norman.. Just stay-"

"Leave it to me, pretty lady. If you've got a problem, you deal with me." Chris seemed so cocky, He extended his arm in attempt to punch him.

He dodged quickly and kicked him in the chest, he toppled instantly.

While on the ground, He tripped Norman and he hit the back of his skull on the hard tile floor.

He walks over to him and smiles, kicking him while he's down.

He tries to stand up but is just kicked again.

He coughs up a bit of blood. He stands up again, right while he was about to be kicked, he grabs his leg and flips him over.

He crouches down to him.

"Friendly reminder, don't ever punch me again."

As a reply, he just spits in his face.

Still filled with rage, he ignores that and just closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, standing him up.

The police had already arrived, someone who saw what was going on must have called them. The crowd had already aborted the building and Cameron had left long ago.

He brought him to the police. who cuff him and put him into the police vehicle.

The rain started to trickle down, but he needed to look for Cameron.

He found her near a police vehicle, talking to Lieutenant Moore.

"Ah, there he is." She motioned for him to come over here.

"That was quite a fight you had there.." He said, obviously not amused.

"Not the worst fight I've ever had, but in my defense, it WAS self defense."

"Yeah, sure." He said sarcastically.

"I've been through more than you think, Moore."

"I think you need to be suspended, Jayden.. You can have this last day here, but then you're out until I say otherwise. Got it?"

Speechless, he just stood there. I've been fed up for a while. I'm done.

He walked off, the rain was starting to pour, and his suit was starting to pay the price.

He got in his car and drove back to the office. There were a few more things he had to do before leaving.

7:46 pm.

He read through all the case files him and Alison did together, looking to find one clue on who was playing these games with me.

There was a knock on the door.

He stood up and opened the door slowly, it was Cameron, she had already changed back to her usual uniform.

"Hello.." He said and just sat back down, reading his file.

"Look, I realize I was sent here to help you, but I feel like I've not been helping at all, or at least making it worse. I'm just telling you because.. In a way I just want to apologize for just standing around doing nothing."

He looked up from his file and stood up. "You've not been doing nothing. At first I cringed at the thought of getting another partner.. But, you've been helping me when there were times I couldn't. And now you'll have to fill in for me. There isn't anyone I'd rather have to take my place than you."

"That's the thing.." A tear streamed down her cheek. "With you not on the case anymore, they're sending me back.. I was only sent here to help you, but if there's not even you to help anymore.. What's the use in staying? I'm leaving a few days.. It all depends on who they put on the case next."

He wiped the tear from her cheek. "I.. I'm sorry.." He whispered lightly.

It was so hard to resist the temptation of desire. But he really couldn't risk losing any of her respect at all. The feeling of desire is one of the strongest feelings anyone could have. And resisting just made it harder to bear. He always had a sweet spot for people who'd feel so sad and alone.

She pulled on his tie to bring him closer to her, and leaned in and pressed her lips against his.

She wrapped his arms around his neck.

The feeling, the rush. The complete feeling of desire rushing and draining from his body at the same time.

He moved closer to her and felt his heart beat the unique rhythm it would of complete emotion.

The earth felt lighter and the world faded away from around him.

He couldn't think of anything but passion. To make her feel as special as she made him feel.

He pulled away slowly, and the aftermath sunk in as always.

He had only felt this one other time. For the first time in years he felt like he was allowed to trust someone again.

Then he started to feel guilt. The selfishness. He'd do anything for her, and he just wanted to show her that. But did he really need to do this?

She was silent for a while, before running away. This was expected, and had always happened to him.

He sat against the wall, wondering what a terrible mistake he had made, and wondered what the consequences would be for this.

A few seconds of desire. A few seconds of complete selflessness.

All for a tiny feeling to be satisfied. It was worth it, for the few seconds it lasted at least.


	7. Determination

_Authors Note: SWEARS SWEARS SWEARS SWEARS SWEARS SWEARS_

_P.S.. Really considering dropping this. I have on more chapter on the way. After that last chapter, I'll write an end. But apparently the end will never get to the point where the flash forward is._

He didn't want it to end this way. But fuck, it was was worth it. He just wanted to say sorry. But he'd never get the chance. He'd never get the goddamn chance to do anything ever again. He just hoped this would be apologetic. He hoped that stepping up like this, arms held straight forward over his sides, he hoped this was good enough. Good enough to make her love him again.

He thought he could feel the ground pulsate under his feet. He felt sick, his eyes slid closed and he took a deep breath.

"NO!"

~ 1 week earlier.

Today was the day Norman got back on the case.

"Good morning, Norman" She smiled, putting down a coffee on his desk.

He pushed and spun his hands in the air, his ARI glasses on. He slid his gloved hand left, nearly tipping over the coffee on his desk.

He grabbed it quickly. It had a lid. _Thank god for quick reflexes._ He turned to see the coffee. He smiled lightly at it, though he could really only feel disgust. He was sick of coffee. After all the disgusting coffees he had choked down. _Augh._

He nodded his head to thank her, but she had already sat down on her chair. She was so damn beautiful. Why did she have to be so fucking beautiful? He couldn't have her. He had to face that.

Reality sunk in. His body went cold and his face slowly formed a frown. He had kissed her. No, _she_ had kissed _him_. Y_eah, keep telling yourself that Norman, that'll be fantastic to put in your report. So believable_..

_Give me a break. I never asked for any of this. I never ASKED FOR A PARTNER. This would have been so much easier if-_

"Norman." His Lieutenant walked in, "Working too hard?"

He was still staring at his coffee. He hadn't looked up since he felt that awful sense of dread. "No s- I mean, kind of?"

"Good, either way, we've got another body."

_It's like someone's toying with me. Every time I feel the worst, another person has to die. What the hell did I do to deserve this?_

"And?" He tapped his foot in anticipation.

"That's it. There is no and. No new evidence, No leads, victims.. Though Chris says he's ready to help you with the case."

"A convict helping the case? How's that gonna work out? Tell us something he believes is true, have it be wrong, then get a reduced sentence?"

"No, it's.. uh.. actually much worse. We give him an ankle monitor, and let him stay with you two."

"How's that any better than him just telling us what to do? Besides, last convict with an ankle monitor got away. Who's idea was this.. Yours or Chris'?"

"Technically.. Chris'.. But the only difference is.."

"He can ruin our lives easier?"

His eyes went right through my soul and stabbed it, I could tell by the harsh expression he wasn't pleased. Also by the obvious fact that no one would.

"Sorry, continue." He sipped his coffee. Cameron has been strangely quiet this whole time. _Shit, of course she would. That goddamn moment we had in the office. That'd make any moment awkward._

"So.. the only difference is he can clearly tell what he is seeing, that way he'd have space to look at, to help with."

"Is he willing to plea guilty?"

"What?"

"I mean, if he didn't have something to do with it, then how would he know where to look, how to help, and what to do? He obviously had something to do with it, otherwise he's just wasting our time, right?"

"You had nothing to do with the crime, yet you're still solving the case. Are you just wasting our time?"

"No.. sir, sorry."

"Alright, head up at five. You can meet him then, at the State Correctional Facility." He walked out.

"Alright." He nodded.

She sighed, turning her chair towards him. "Look, we need to talk."

"There's nothing to talk about, okay?" His whole body tensed up and he put his hands on his forehead and sighed. "You had a temporary lapse of insanity because of issues, but it's over now. Case closed."

"But, Norman I-"

"Just drop it, okay!?" He barked, almost loud enough for the whole office to hear. Oh god, if he could take that back he would. "Look, I'm-"

"N-no.. you're right.. I-it was all a mistake.. I understand. I shouldn't have done it, I'm sorry."

_Was I really that harsh? Was it really just a mistake, or did she really mean it? I can't tell anymore! I just wanted this to be over._ "Cameron.."

"No, just stop." I hated seeing her like this, especially it being my own fault for her feeling like this. What am I gonna do with this?

_All I could think about was Tripto. Just the words escaping my lips made me chill to the bone. It'd always calm me down. And it there was ever a time where I needed Tripto, it'd be now._

He slipped a hand in his pocket and fondled the vial in between his fingers. _I just need, to feel it. Just one dose.. Please, that's all I need. Then this whole nightmare will be over. One. Tiny. Dose._

He kept telling himself that. As if to catch his own attention. _No.. not now, not infront of her. Never again, I can't take it anymore! If not for me, but some how for her. Just to keep myself encouraged, I'll pretend it's for her._

His mind spun with mixed feeling for the drug that'd bring him to his deathbed.

She turned to him once again. I swear to god, if she does anything to bring up Tripto.. It'll just push my buttons.

"You keep doing that.."

"Doing what?" He raised an eyebrow.

"Putting your hands in your pockets. Not to butt in to any business.."

"Not. Important."

She then grew more concerned, more curious. "What's.. in there?"

"Not. IMPORTANT."

_SHIT. STOP TALKING ABOUT IT. I just want to quit and you're making it more and more difficult!_

He couldn't say that out loud. He had already hurt her enough. He pulled it out of his pocket quickly, and pressed it against his chest, covering it with his hand. He became fidgety and jumpy.

"Norman."

The sound scared him. He walked to the door and his shaky hands grew into fast heart beat, sweaty palms, and quick breath.

He pressed his hand against the knob of the door, just to drop the vial with the other. _Shit. NO!_

He grabbed it within an instant, as if to protect his baby. He opened the door just to hear Cameron speak before closing it behind him. "Goddamnit, Norman! What's WRONG with you!?"

He walked to the bathroom, his hands still shaking, but he covered that in his pockets.

He slammed the doors behind him, he entered a stall and locked it. He quickly and sloppily opened the vial, a tad bit falling on the floor in the process. He put it under his nose and inhaled deeply. _Just die already, you bastard._ He thought to himself.

He opened one more vial, _one for waiting._

He took one last sharp inhale, throwing the empty vial into the trash and sighing. _I was never supposed to take a whole vial._

I should always dispose some way there is no evidence. Though he left that bathroom with evidence, he never thought to clean the Tripto off the floor.

He was calm now. The fear he had just felt had vanished. Everything was good again. He felt like he could breathe again.

He walked to the office, feeling lighter than air. He sat down on his chair and closed his eyes, as the last bit of ecstasy wore off.

"Sorry, just feeling a bit off today." He explained softly.

No reply. What the hell is wrong with me?

He put his shades on, and the environment changed. The sickening orange circles appeared in the air. Everything about ARI made me sick. _Yet it was so damn addictive._

He put on his glove and interacted with the orange circles. He touched one, Christopher Miller.

_"Excuse me."_ He heard in the background, Cameron.

He nodded his head to show he heard her, and continued scrolling through the information.

_Christopher Miller, Criminal Record in Drug Dealing and Robbery. 24 years old, 5'9, weighs approximately 135 pounds._

"Norman, what the hell! Is this what you've been running off doing?"

_Really? Now!?_

He took off the ARI and looked at her. In her hands were vials of Triptocaine. _I wasn't thinking straight. Why didn't I dispose of them properly?_

He swallowed deeply. "T-those aren't mine."

She rolled her eyes. "Cut the crap, Norman. I know the symptoms of an addict from a mile away. Do you really think I'm that stupid? I'm an FBI profiler for god sake!"

_No, no. I-it can't.._

"Answer me! How long have you been doing this? Were you even trying to quit!?"

He nervously bit his fingernails. "You're overreacting. You can't talk about this in the office." He put a finger on his lips to quiet her down.

She suddenly starts laughing like a maniac. "Ha.. hahaha.. hahaha! Wow, I thought I knew you. I was seeing the symptoms. But I thought it was just stress!"

"Look, I know how this must seem-"

"How else could it seem, Norman! Tell me, huh?"

"Just... calm down.."

She chuckled and sat back down. _I have a feeling I won't see the end of this._

He couldn't even face the real world anymore. He couldn't face himself anymore.

He put on his only source of escape. His ARI. He wanted to tell her everything. He wanted to tell her it was just because he needed to numb the bad symptoms of the ARI. He knew that was a lie, though. He'd been using it for more lately. He'd been using it as a nerve calming drug.

All he could do was mentally kick himself. He'd probably never speak to her again.

He shakily put on his ARI and continued reading. Until the clock struck five.

~ 5 PM ~

He sat in the cafeteria, reading the file.

He took a sip of his coffee. Cold, disgusting, old coffee. His stomach churned and his face formed an uncontrollable grimace. He shuttered but choked down another sip. A drink is a drink.

She walked in, he couldn't even look her in the eye. He kept his eye on the file and turned the page. "You ready?"

"Yeah, sure." She muttered lightly under her breath. He could barely hear her.

Did I really screw up that bad? I mean, I'm trying my best. I'm trying to quit. Now I won't have to pretend. I have encouragement to quit. As hard as it may be. I need to quit messing with her feelings. Me and her had gone through enough anyway.

He stood up. "Lemme just return this to the office."

She nodded as he walked towards the office.

He stared down the glasses with hate, just to pick them up. _Never know when you might need 'em._

He walked out of the office building. Cameron was waiting there.

Don't make anything worse, Norman.

They walked to the car and got in. He buckled. She was apparently sitting in the backseat.

He adjusted his rearview mirror to look at her. She wasn't looking back at him. He looked down slowly, and started the car, entering the street and thought about what to say.

On the drive there he wanted to explain to her everything. He knew he couldn't. Who would believe him? _I wouldn't believe myself_. He wanted to tell her that the Tripto was just for the ARI.. But he knew that was a lie. He'd been taking it for more than that.

"The Tripto is just for the ARI.." The words escaped from his mouth like a river. They flowed easily. _Great.. a lie. _After being in the FBI and interrogating enough people, lies came easy to him. He could say them convincingly.

"Cut the lies, Norman." She turned her attention to outside the window and crossed her arms.

"O-okay.. Look, I'm serious about it being for-" _What the hell? _It's like his_ mystical powers _disappeared. He couldn't spit it out. He couldn't tell a lie. Not to her, at least.

"It's.. for the.. ARI.. but.." He took a deep breath. _I.. can't.._

"But.. lately you're just an addict? Is that what you're trying to tell me? Just spit it out. You have plenty to lose, nothing to gain."

"I'll tell you later.." He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. He kept his eyes on the road. This was one of the only times where thinking of Tripto made him feel sick.

"I think I already know.."

He blunk violently, rubbing his eyes. This is unbearable..

_Really, later? That's pathetic. I need to tell her now_

"I use it for _stress_."

"What?" She looked towards his seat in anticipation..

He tightened his grip on the steering wheel. "The Tripto. I use it for stress. It started out as me just using it for the side effects, then it.. Just.. I started using it to help me with cases."

"How can a drug help you with cases? It's stressful by itself."

"It'd calm me down. Make me think more straight. I couldn't think straight with all the STRESS. I could barely function. Suicide was almost an option. I was considering quitting the force. To finally live a normal life. I could get a less stressful job, and finally have enough time to start a life."

"And the drug stopped you from that?"

"No.. the drug nearly killed me. I met someone, that made me think it was possible.. Maybe possible I could do both. Have my cake and eat it too. Still be with the FBI, and have a life too. Then.. well.. have you heard of "The Distraction Killer"?"

"Uhm.. wha- who?"

"The Distraction Killer left all sorts of fake clues around the scene to throw us off the case. We thought it'd be so easy. But each piece of evidence had a different piece of DNA.. Except three had the same fingerprints.."

"So.. what happened? Was the person you were talking about killed by this so called "Distraction Killer"?"

"No.. _she_ ended up being.. The killer.. I thought we'd had something, anything. At least a friendship would do. But no.. She was just distracting me.. To throw me off the case. She wanted me to not suspect a thing. Well, it worked. For a while.. when there was no other option then to bring her in, I was in charge of doing so.. I was the one who had to.. shoot her."

"Did you?" She was at the edge of her seat as if reading a book.

"I- couldn't.. It wasn't me to kill her.. After she was gone.. It drove me to overdose on Triptocaine.. I took one.. no.. five.. ten doses.. I should have died. I wanted to fucking die so bad. I was supposed to die. I don't know what miracle brought me back alive."

"What the hell stopped you from just quitting right there?"

"I.. realized I needed a distraction. Something to keep my mind off the drug.. Nothing seemed to work. Except work, which had distracted me from getting a life all these years. I had assumed it'd work just as well now. I really did, well. Am trying to quit. I'm so sorry you had to come here and be induced in all this drama.."

"I.. It's really okay.. I've been through worse."

_I highly doubt it._

"I'm sorry you've been through worse than _this._" He chuckled.

He noticed the sign to the police department and turned. He looked in the rearview mirror. She seemed to be getting him.

He parked the car and unbuckled. "We're here."

She sighed and opened the door and walked towards the prison. He looked down to the ARI shades sitting next to him. He begrudgingly picked them up and put them on.

He met Cameron in the prison. In which she looked at him.

"Why do you need ARI in the prison?"

"I don't. Makes me look tougher I guess." He smirked.

She blushed lightly and turned away. _Hmph._

They headed to the interrogation room where Chris was waiting for them.

"Knock when you're ready." He nodded and entered the room.

He took a seat infront of Chris and he was tapping his foot.

"Whatcha have for us that isn't completely worthless?" She asked.

"Can ya' say anything that isn't completely retarded?" Chris had southern accent that made it almost impossible to understand what he was saying.

"We can send you back to prison whenever we want, so watch your mouth." He said bluntly and leaned back in his chair.

"Okay, your main suspect is Alison, right?"

"Yeah.. is she still in jail?"

She looked at him and raised an eyebrow. "You have a suspect?"

"Let the grownups talk, angel." The criminal insisted.

"Okay, we're done here." He stood up.

"Wait wait wait, I'm sorry."

He sat down. "Now if you could find a more productive use of our time, please answer the question."

"She is not still in jail. Not sure if she escaped or was let out. She didn't tell me."

"Didn't tell you? What relation are you to her?"

"None of you business. You?" He barked.

"Back atcha. Now you are not required by law to answer the question, but we have the right to keep you in jail or as a suspect until you do." He leaned in closer. "Now I am against certain laws, Though I sure wouldn't mind a bit to throw you in jail for the rest of your life."

"You ain't the type to even hurt a fly, asshole."

He leans back. He was right. He'd bluff when he needed to. Or in a time like this. He'd lose his badge if he took the aggression out now.

"Last chance. Give us what we need or we're leaving."

He sighed and clenched his jaw. "I don't know a damn thing about her. Sure, she may be a suspect. But don't think even for a second, that just because I don't know something that I'm lying to ya', Because that'd just be stupid. I have no relationship with her other than an old friendship."

He leaned in closer again. "We'll pick you up tomorrow for help. We don't have enough time right now to keep an eye on you."

He scoffed and leaned back in his chair.

He knocked on the door to let the people on the other side of the door know they were ready to come out. The door opened infront of them.

They walked to the car. "Well that was both easy and frustrating." She sighed.

"It was hard to make him spill, yet pretty quick.. Good enough, for today. He'll be way more difficult to get used tomorrow." He got in the front seat of the car.

"Still mad at me?"

"Yes, pisses me off that you use a drug.. so out of purpose, just for stress. But I can't afford to be angry you personally. We're partners and there's nothing that'll change that. Waste of energy to spend my anger on you."

"Hmph.." They both got in the car.

"Mind if you drop me off at my place?"

"What about your car?" He started the ignition.

She shrugged. "I usually walk to work anyway."

"That doesn't sound very pleasant." He drove out of the parking lot and out onto the road. He tapped his foot. Withdrawl was kicking in. With a revenge.

"I actually like the cold. It was really warm from where I'm from so.. I could use it."

"Where are you from anyway?"

"California.."

"Yikes.. especially if you dislike warm weather." He chuckled. "I guess I'm used to it by now. Though I still can't get used to the rain.."

He looked around. "Where do you live?"

"The apartment complex at 407 Northfield Avenue."

He nodded, and turned towards Northfield.

Upon arrival, both of them got out of the car and entered the building lobby.

"Goodnight, Norman." She walked into the direction of her room. And he waved her off.

He got in his car, and put it in drive. He wondered if he had made the right choice.

On the way to to his apartment, he passed by that dreaded club. He hadn't needed to go there since meeting Cameron. But god he needed it now.

He parked his car there, walking in and settling down at the bar. "Shot of Vodka, please."

The bartender nodded and poured him a shot. He swallowed it as fast as it was poured.

He looked around the crowd. He could have sworn he'd seen Alison.

Not because he wanted to because of a love induced hallucination. Because he fucking hated her guts now. He didn't know if that was him or the alcohol talking.

His deranged head just got crazier with every shot he took. He blunk, just a split second. Then he was in a bathroom stall, an open vial with half of the substance missing.

"SHIT! No.. anything but... I.. thought I was getting better." He didn't feel the ecstasy, the heart rush, or anything. Did he really take any at all?

He really didn't know anything prior to the event. Other than taking about fifteen shots of vodka.

He felt sick, he turned from the toilet he was sitting on to putting his face in it. He vomited the alcohol, the supposed Tripto he took, and almost all the rest of the contents of his stomach.

He coughed blood. He took this as a sign that he was getting better. Not getting better, but not getting worse. He'd do that if he quit any other day but the day he started.

Every time he felt better, he fled to the stall to go puke again. After a while he decided to just sit in the stall. His face in the toilet and his hands clasped behind his head.

Never should have taken the Tripto. Or ARI for that matter.

He spent about two hours there, then he stumbled back to his apartment.

Tomorrow was a new day..


	8. Discovery

~ One week before meeting Alison, One week in the FBI. And one week after meeting his partner. ~

His partner knocked on the door. "Knock knock." He joked.

He looked up from his file to see his partner, James Ferrow.

"Hello." He looked back down to the file, glancing over it vaguely.

"I've got somethin' for ya."

He looked up from his file again, leaning back in his chair with his arms crossed.

His partner walked in and put a pair of shades on his desk.

"Sunglasses?" He smirked.

"Not.. really.. It's ARI. Added Reality Interface."

He put a finger on his chin. "Yeah, yeah.. I took the training.."

"Go ahead, try it. I already took a glance. Hurts my eyes, though you should get used to it fairly quickly."

He put on the shades and nothing really happened.

"Oh, wait. I forgot to give you the glove." He took a leather glove from his pocket and gave it to him. "Basically you just wave your hand left, right, up, or down to use it. That's all they really told me."

He put on the glove and waved his hand left. Orange balls with different shapes appeared. Such as a fall leaf, and a snowflake.

"How's this supposed to help me with anything?" He handed his partner the shades and he put them on. "I don't know. I haven't gotten to this part of the system before. How'd ya get here?"

He shrugged. "Waved my hand left. Like you told me."

"Well, right takes you to case files. Though none have been added yet, so that's not much of help. By the way, we have another case."

_I can never catch a break can I?_

He nodded. "What is it?"

"No clue. All we have is a young man murdered around a junkyard. Early twenties. We've got a suspect already. A friend of his who was at the scene of the crime."

Though that sounded odd, he just nodded his head. "Lets go." He stood up from his chair.

"Wait, take this." He took a vial from his pocket and handed it to him.

It had a blue, flaky substance to it. "What is this?"

"Sort of a drug? Triptocaine"

He shockingly dropped it on his desk. "Why are you handing me drugs? How did you get this? And, you know I don't do drugs."

He tried to hold in his laughter. "No, it's not like that. The ARI can sometimes cause hallucinations. Use with care. And only take it when you need it. Only take a tiny sniff."

A grimace snuck on his face. "I.. sniff it? Are you really telling me this is for the ARI and not just some street drug?"

"Sure am."

"Lets just go.." He put the vial in his pocket, and stood back up. "Wait.. I'll be taking a look at the crime scene.."

"You sure?"

"Yes, I'll meet up with you in a few minutes. Best to see if there are anymore more evidence I can gather.."

He nodded and walked out.

He walked to his car and stared at the glasses. He put them in his coat pocket, and started the car.

He got to the crime scene at 5:32, The sun was already falling and the clouds masked any sun that was yet to come out.

He put on the ARI and glove. Then exited the vehicle.

He tried to remember what James said. Move my hand.. right? No.. that's the FBI database.. worth a shot, though.

He waved his hand right. Though getting some strange looks from the people around him. He touched the footprints with his gloved hand and a spiral of data appeared.

He felt like God. The ability to know everything with just the wave of his hand, and a touch with his glove.

He grinned. He felt like a child getting a new toy.

"ARI Note: Possible suspect wore golf shoes. Meaning they either didn't have time to change, or they were being _very_ sloppy."

His new found obsession told him everything. The specifics. Even if they didn't really have anything to do with anything, it was still a fun gadget. Though he was beginning to think of it as more of a toy to him than a work ethic. Which would just make him fall into an even deeper addiction than he did during training.

Though he remembered what happened to the people who made the same mistake as him. They'd seize up, get nose bleeds, and worse, some of them never got out of their hallucinations they'd face. The max anyone had used it in on sitting was a little over 12 minutes, every 30 minutes. Max Crutcher. In which his body responded with removing the lovely gift of taste. We never did see him in training much then. He'd always sit in the corner, while he was there. Either sucking on a lollipop or a pepper, anything to try and get his taste back. It obviously fried the part of his brain that made him taste. He was kicked out barely after training began. He apparently couldn't be trusted not to kill himself with it.

Some just seized and never really came back. It was horribly terrifying. Our instructors would say they were fine. Though I took phycology, I could tell when someone was lying.

One trainee, I think his name was Dennis Vonahugh. He had a crying fit, he tore off his glasses in horror and nearly gouged the eyes out of his sockets. I don't know what he saw, nor do I really think I want to. I think it was just another hallucination due to over indulgence. Something he made up with his own mind, yet due to lack of self control, he couldn't really manage what he made himself see in the fake world of ARI. We never saw him again either.

The thought just gave him chills, and he tore the shades off from his face. Though what really scared him was that he still really, _really_ wanted to wear them.

There were several ideas the students and instructors gave me to stop the side effects from happening. Some gave a wide range of ideas, such as pinching yourself, swaying back and forth, eating to show yourself you're still in reality. Some people suggested throwing something. One wise girl suggested not wearing them at all, this was after one of her seizures the day before. And was before she quit the day after. These things all worked for these people.

Though one thing helped me, none of them worked when I had my break down. I almost completely lost sanity. Water would help me. Weither it was a splash of water in my face, or a shower. It'd work. Though throwing stuff worked too. _No wonder I didn't like rain. It'd remind me of that break down. God, I feared for my life. As much as one with lack of blood flow to the brain could. Or maybe I just generally didn't like getting soaked. Probably the latter._

Though James gave him a cheat. A "kind of drug".. Something that could delay the effects, if not remove them completely. He had never experienced a seizure due to the shades before. Though he'd experienced temporary suffocation and nose bleeds. Stuff that almost got him kicked out from the training. It was strange. He was almost the hero of the whole class. He'd experience the least side effects, was gifted with ARI, yet when he DID get symptoms, they'd be god awful, life threatening side effects.

He put the shades back on and sighed. He didn't want to get stressed out with ARI right now. He shook his head.

There was a.. watch on the ground? He picked it up with his gloved hand and started another ARI note.

"Golden Rolex, appears to be adjusted to fit a male at approximately 120 pounds. Looks worn out. Bought two years ago, December 14th or 15th, says receipt history. Time seems to be set to Eastern Standard Time, meaning he isn't from here and he hasn't changed his time yet." Aha, the way he was talking made him sound like Sherlock Holmes. He loved the books, since he was twelve to now.

Being able to identify everything and both annoy and surprise the people around him with his brilliance has always been a great thing to read. It seemed it'd to be pretty fun to him to piss off the people less intelligent than him. Because they weren't.. Well let's just say _smart_ enough to know much of anything, even if it was unintentional "insults". Yet they couldn't really get rid of him because, lets face it. They _needed_ him.

Now he could be his own mentalist, he was already an FBI agent, it's a higher rank than detective so he'd still be able to astonish everyone with magnificent skills of such power. Such holy power that could do anything he'd will it to do. It made him feel giddy inside. Like a madman who's latest invention worked.

He whistled a song, going through the crime scene like a brease. Just flicking his wrist to show more evidence. Examine it, put it in the database, then moved to the next piece of evidence. It was almost _boring_ how easy it was. He looked at his watch. He'd been wearing the shades for 20 minutes without even noticing. "What the hell..?" He muttered under his breath.

He quickly tore them off, the aftermath was so cruel and unmerciful. He didn't feel any pain until he took them off. He fell backwards into a muddy puddle and clenched his jaw so tight he almost broke it. While he was down, he didn't notice anything different. Like his eyes were focused on a still image. Even after falling backwards, all he could see was what he saw before he took them off, then everything just got blurry, and his body tensed up.

He got ready for his second ever truly deadly consequence of ARI. Then he remembered.

"Th- th- the.. Tript- tript- triptocaine." His stuttering got out of control. He was scared he was vocally disabled for the rest of his life. Like Dennis' hallucinations, and Max's taste. He grabbed the vial from his coat pocket and opened it up. Take with care. He sniffed a tiny bit. The rush kicked in instantly. His pupils dilated and, like a camera getting into focus, his vision returned.

Stress, fear, all turned to rush and excitement. He shot himself up like a lighting bolt he'd see nearly every night here.

A sigh escaped his lips. He had that unique high feeling. As if he'd do anything and expect it to work. He wanted to run up that hill over there. Push over a police officer. He knew all of those feelings weren't normal.. at least a little bit. He couldn't be high in the middle of a crime scene. Hell, not infront of about a dozen cops. Shit this was an amazing feeling. He knew he couldn't drive. Though he couldn't leave his car either. So he just wondered around until it wore off.

Far from the crime scene, he tried several things to get the drug out of his system naturally, because it already did its job. He did cartwheels, jumping jacks, jogging, drinking water. Eventually about several hundred of each of those and he managed to puke it out.

He seemed sober _enough_. So he went back to the scene. Whereas James was panicing and pulling his hair out. He turned to him, sighing in relief. "There you are! I thought you were a victim of the killer!"

"It never occurred to you I'd leave the scene?"

"Well.. you said you'd be here.. And there's been another murder.."

He raises an eyebrow. "How the hell..?"

"You didn't hear? They found ANOTHER body at the crime scene.." He cocked his head to the side. "How long have you been gone?"

"Only a few minutes." He choked out the lie. Almost stuttering again. He couldn't tell if it was from lying to a friend or the underlying aftermath of ARI still fading in and out.

"They can deal with this one. I'm going home.."

He shrugged. "You weren't here long."

He was already walking away, he got in his car, finally being sober enough to drive. At least.. He thinks so.

Upon reaching his dull apartment, the apartment with dust, that looks like it'd belong to an old married couple due to the weirdly painted walls and colored bedsheets. He put down the vial, glove, and shades on his nightstand. He laid down and barely got any sleep. All he could think about was the case. He spend half of the time being high so he needed to make up for it.

Until 7am. His allarm blared. He got just under four hours of sleep.

That's when withdrawl kicked in.

It'd only been a couple of hours, but since the drug was so powerful, that meant the withdrawal was twice as worse. Though the feeling he got was so devine. He wanted to feel like that all the time.

He decided to get something to eat while waking up. He grabbed the first thing he could. Cereal. He poured it sloppily. He was too dazed to work. Let alone make his own breakfast.

He nearly swallowed it whole. Too preoccupied with other things to really even do anything correctly.

_Like thinking of Triptocaine. For example._

He clenched his jaw, tapping his fingers and feet, looking around the room like a maniac. He could almost literally hear the clock ticking on the wall. His face got so itchy he couldn't take it anymore.

He stumbled around the apartment. "Shit, where'd I put it?" He knew he was addicted. But for a weird reason he didn't think it'd be possible. He was getting paranoid now. Did he really get this from the lab to stop the side effects?

He didn't care, he just knew he needed some.

He fell to his knees at one point, to the point where he couldn't stand anymore. Handicapped by his urges.

He'd begin to look everywhere, under the bed, in his pockets, _twice_. And in the bathroom cabinets.

Then, there it was, staring at him, on the nightstand. He felt like an idiot. He grabbed it, protecting it like it was his baby. He felt like never having it leave his sight again. But all he could do was open it, breathing in it's intoxicating contents.

He felt calm. He fell back in content and sighed.

The withdrawal was gone, and so was the stress.

At the office, he didn't feel withdrawal, didn't think about it at all, just swung through the evidence he collected the night before. Even listening to ARI comments. The sound of his voice made him cringe. "Do I really sound that bad?" He swung towards the only real evidence he'd have. DNA fibers from the victims wrist.

James came in, sitting down on the chair infront of his desk. "You wanted to talk to me?"

He quickly yanked the shades off his face, leaning in and looking around him, whispering. "Tell me about the drug.."

"Shit, Norman! This is a public office!" He barked, though leaning in. "What the hell do you want to know?"

"When you gave it to me, you tensed up and you pupils dilated, as if you felt bad giving it away. Meaning you're giving the drug away because you're addicted too, or it really is just another illegal narcotic. So I want to know, how illegal is it?"

"You're addicted!? Already? I.. I was just doing you a solid. Thought it'd be nice to give you that.. freedom not to deal with the nasty effects of ARI. It's illegal enough, the FBI doesn't even know about it, just a few. So if you're tested, they won't find it because the system doesn't know what to look for. Doesn't know to check for the symptoms of that drug."

"So.. to save me.. and give me that "Freedom", you pumped me up full of drugs without telling me the side effects, or how damn illegal it was?"

He was smart enough to know not to raise his voice. Though he did stand up in rage.

"Look, a few people in the training program got the drug, not from me, they hooked themselves up.. But as far as I know.. you're the first one to get addicted.."

He sat down, stressed out of his goddamn mind. "I'm really the first..? I.. I thought.." He rubbed his hand in his hair, standing up again pacing.

"S-should I go?"

"Hell yeah." He didn't know what to do, but in reflex he knew Tripto was always there when he needed it.

So he cowered in a corner, away from the wide windows to show the office, and sniffed just a tiny bit.

That tiny bit was just enough to make it all feel better.

* * *

**A/N:** And that's it! I think I'm done with this series! I'll get back to you when I've made an informed decision.


	9. Repression

_A/N: In the dream, she will be saying "I" instead of "she", I only say "I" when someone is narrating._

_Also, if you see any italics while Alison is telling the story, it means Chris' point of view, if you see Chris' POV while Alison is telling her story, she does not mention it. Only you hear/see it. ;D_

_I didn't always use to be a drug crazed maniac. Everyone must look down on me. Everyone._

He let out an exasperated sigh, holding his hands behind his back and looked at the rising sun.

_Used to be a hero. No matter what happens, I'll not truly be a hero. Just a guy who was there at the right moment._

_Or maybe I was overreacting.. Actually, it doesn't matter what the people think. I don't feel like a hero. I can't even do ANYTHING without ARI._

He paced around the apartment. Contemplating_ everything._

He was stressed out, and withdrawal was a bitch.

Headaches, nausea, paranoia, the whole deal. The stress would always go away if he took Tripto.. Hell no, I'm not taking anymore of that.

He'd been having occasional muscle spasms as well. The stuff's been cooking my brain.. No, he didn't mean the Tripto. The ARI was almost two times worse. It's so additive to have your own world. A life where you can change everything. No stress.

Except, the ARI_ is_ stressing him out. It is _the_ stress. It's ruining his brain with the radiation and lights that shine into his eyes like a rave party, that it's making him paranoid. Though it was so amazing. The sensation. He wanted to be buried in the ARI. At least then he wouldn't have a working brain to be cooked.

He grit his teeth and walked around. He was going to be a few minutes late. That didn't matter. The case was just making it worse. Every time he thought about it...

_And here comes another spasm._

He just laid on the bed and prayed it was a short one. Clenching his jaw and let out muffled groans that only he could hear. It was usually in the arm or leg. He ran a hand through his hair, nearly pulling a handful of hair out in the process. He'd bite down on something most of the time. Either a pillow or his own hand.

It was the pain of a pound of TNT going off in his arm.

His hand was getting deep bite marks. As if he'd been in a zombie movie. It didn't bleed, it was just really, really bad.

His apartment had grown to look like it was robbed, things thrown everywhere, stuff scattered all over the room. He'd needed to take out the anger somehow. He already spent half of it cursing at the receptionist for lack of towels. That wasn't her fault. It was just that he couldn't hold it in anymore.

It was so hart to ignore temptation. But it'd be better to ignore temptation than his brain being fried into soup.

When the muscle spasm ended, he stood up slowly, as to not cause another one. Then he paced around the apartment like a raging stampede of elephants. Possibly waking the still sleeping neighbors.

There were things before he was an addict he did to get rid of the stress. Because hell, he had a lot of stress. He'd get pretty violent, throw things, punch people. But he'd gotten over that.. mostly.. He couldn't remember what he'd do. Because it had been so long since he'd needed to.

He felt another round of massive vomiting coming up. _Shit, now I'd rather take tripto than go through this anymore._

He'd sit around the toilet, waiting until the pain in his stomach was unbearable to give in and just go with it.

But for now he'd just think. Think about everything that'd make him stressed. It was the only thing to make the stress leave. To solve the problem. That was what he was best at.

~~~~ Cameron

Every night, I'd have a god awful dream.

Walking, then sprinting, then running through a forest that never ended. I knew it was pointless, I knew it never ended.

Though a pit in my stomach told me to never stop running. Keep running for the rest of your life. If you're tired, fuck it, keep running.

It was so terrifying. Every night I'd be so damn scared. I didn't know why I'd want to run like this, ever.

Every night, I'd turn around. It was so idiotic. Every night, I'd know what would be there. But it was like I was simply watching myself do unconscious movements. I had no control. Like curiosity was eating me whole. Even though I knew what was there, I had to make sure. Like I was trying to make myself scared, to encourage myself to keep running.

Then when I saw it, him, whatever you want to call it. I couldn't move. I kept closing my eyes, anything to wake up. I wanted to wake up but I couldn't.

My murderer. The murderer who tried to kill me two years ago. His soulless eyes staring back into mine. As if trying to eat my soul to compensate for his lack of one.

A horrifying, deathly ill grin crossed his face. As if the grin was too big to even fit on his face. He let out a ear piercing cackle as he wanted to torture me more. As if last time wasn't enough.

I tried to beg for mercy. All that escaped my lips were sobs, I fell to my knees and begged. That cruel heartless monster could care less. "You already tortured me, please. What else do you want? Please! I'll give you anything!"

He'd just kneel down by me, I'd try to run but I was physically incapable. It's almost like he walked faster than I ran. Because he didn't even look tired. He'd put a hand in my hair that I'd try and smack away, but my body wasn't moving. My body wasn't sending any signals to move my arm. Like I wasn't even trying.

My whole body was engulfed with a cold feeling. A feeling of utter terror.

"Sweety. I wasn't done with you last time. You ran away, remember?" He smacked me across the face. I'd experienced the nightmare enough to actually feel the slap. "It's okay. This'll be quick."

"Wait! T-there's got to be something.. y-you want more." I had never gotten to this part of my dream before.. I had always awoken before. Is this the part he actually kills me? I swallowed, dreading the answer as much as the dream all together.

He put his mouth close enough to my ear to whisper. I felt a soft intake of breath on my ear as he let out a sentence that nearly drove me insane.

"Make Agent Norman Jayden's life a living hell."

That's when she awoke, drenched in sweat. She shot up quickly, uncontrollably screaming on the top of her lungs. Why.. how.. how could I make that.. up? Why would I ever.. dream.. what?

She broke into sobs worse than the one in her nightmare. The pounding on the wall next to her just made it worse.

"Shut up in there!" The voice called from behind her wall.

She scrambled to pick up her phone to call Norman, at least for moral support.

She scrambled to pick up her phone, accidentally hitting it off her nightstand with her halfassed efforts. "Shit."

Her hands were barely still enough to pick up the phone. "God.." She dialed the numbers quickly. "Please, please pick up."

_One ring.. two rings.. three rings.. four ri-_

"Hello? Who's th-"

"Uh, N-norman? Do you mi-mi-mind if I come over?" She was barely even able to make out complete sentences with her stuttering.

"What's wro- You know what? Sure. I think I need some support too.."

Those were the best words she'd heard in years. "Thanks.. Where are you?"

"Elwood Suites.. 346 E Street. Floor 2, room 212."

She mentally nodded to herself. "I'm on it."

As soon as she got there, she knocked. No response, she slowly peaked through the unlocked door. _Apparently the door was unlocked. Was Norman completely losing his grip?_

She carefully walked in, feeling so pushy. "Hello? Where are you?" She closed and _locked_ the door.

"In here." A tiny voice came from the bathroom.

She sighed, slowly pushing through the bathroom door. He was sitting next to the toilet with his legs brought up to his chest. He looked exhausted. "Jeez, you look terrible. Are you gonna be alright?"

"Ye.. no.. maybe?"

"Is it all withdrawal?" She hit her hand on her forehead. _Moron_. "I mean.. when did you last take the drug?"

"About three days ago." He leaned the back of his head against the wall. "Don't remind me."

She sat next to him. "It's all going to be alright. You're doing fine." She smiled towards him. "Even though you looked like you were robbed. What happened?"

"When Tripto had been my only stress reliever, I had to go with the only other option I knew that worked."

She bit her lower lip, feeling somewhat responsible. "I feel like I've been horrible to you. So selfish, pushing my own needs against yours. I feel so puny compared to your kindness and my, well it seems.. lack of intellect."

He kept looking forward towards her. "God no, I like you because of you're about thirty percent smarter than the entire population. You have your time to prove it to everyone else when you solve the case."

"Yeah.. still. You have ARI. You could solve the murder before the body is even cold."

He chuckled at the humor. It was good to laugh again. "Trust me, it has been about a week. I still haven't figured it out yet. Trust me, no."

"Compared to you.." She looked down towards her feet. "Nevermind.."

"I have a splitting headache that makes me want to end it all right now. I have a bottle of painkillers on my desk. Can you get my a pill? Or two? Or three? Hell, give me the whole bottle."

"Sure.. I'll, uh.. only get you two. You don't seem to be thinking clearly." She pushed herself up off of the cold floor with her hands and left the bathroom.

She got a bottle of water from the storage next to his desk, as well as the requested pills.

She heard distant puking coming from the bathroom. It made her grimace and her stomach churn, but she understood what he must be going through. As much as she could, that is.

She returned the the bathroom, rubbing his back for moral support. "Aww.. poor guy." She put the bottled water besides him.

He flushed the toilet in disgust and shuttered.

He sat back against the wall. "If I wanted that kind of support I'd just call my mom."

"Wow, I was just being supportive. At least you still have your sense of humor.." She handed him the pills, which he swallowed both at once with the water. "If you were kidding."

He smirked back at her. "Why'd you want to come over?"

The mood was suddenly killed and she looked down. She couldn't even tell him anymore. If it was a clue drilled into her subconscious, or she was just some sick sadist freak.

"No.. reason.. I.." She choked out that and only that.

He held her hand in attempt for her to feel safer to explain. "Darling, you can't expect me to spill my deepest secrets without you at least telling me this one thing."

She swallowed her pride and spit it out. "Alison isn't the Distraction Killer."

The color completely drained out of him. "But she told me she.." He stared at her in shock.

She knew she shouldn't had said this. He'd been going through so much and I made it worse.

"How do you know? How wou.." He was completely lost of words, his hands sunk into his palms.

"I.." She bit her tongue. "..was a.. well I.."

Growing agitated, he snapped. "Well?"

"I was a victim of the distraction killer."

As soon as the words escaped her lips, he stood up. "Well there goes two years of my life."

"I knew you couldn't take it right now."

He started laughing hysterically. "No.. I'm fine!"

She forced out a laugh herself. "You don't look, act, or seem fine to me."

He paced around the bathroom, constantly twitching. She scooted away from where he'd walk, trying not to accidentally get hit.

"Norman, I need you to stop, take a deep breath, and calm down. The more you're stressed out, the more you'll want to take Tripto. The third day is always the worst and if you made it this far I _don't_ want to relapse and take some. So I need you to take your mind off of it, and I'll explain myself, slowly. Do you think you can handle that? Or should I leave until you _can_ handle it?"

He seemed at least remotely calm. "No.. you're right. I'm just going through everything at once."

"I understand." She used to be psychiatrist, and this is where she'd brush up her skills. "Now I don't want you to focus on it anymore. Tell me when I start to stress you out. Just tell me to stop and we'll move to a different subject. Promise me you'll tell me as soon as you get stressed out. Don't push your luck because I already feel like you aren't capable of taking this information. Do you understand?"

Her sudden change in attitude surprised him. Though he knew it was for the best. He nodded.

"Good." She took a deep breath, getting ready to tell her long tale.

"It all started when.."

**(TO BE CONTINUED)**

* * *

_**A/N**_: Yeah, sorry guys, to avoid mixing reality in with the story, I need to make the story a separate chapter.


	10. Possessive

"So, tell me about the body." She pressed the back of her pen on her chin and listened.

"Nothing special. Bruise marks, clear sign of what weapon they used. Same old same old simply stuff." The man explained bluntly.

"If it was nothing special, I wouldn't be here right now." She paced around the autopsy room while getting close enough to the body. "What weapon was it? Forensics isn't my thing."

"357 Magnum Revolver. He was shot from about.." The Forensics officer stepped back, made a finger gun and took a deep breath. "Around 10 inches far from the victim into the chest.. and.."

He got closer to the body and examined it. "Point blank in the shoulder."

She spoke almost the second he stopped. "He was shot in the shoulder from behind, expecting him to fall over. He holds his shoulder with one hand then, while reaching for his weapon with his other hand.." He cut her off.

"..he was shot from the front into his chest from 10 inches."

"This is why I don't like you." She growled.

"I do what I do best." He smirked.

"Yeah.. right.." She just gave him a smirk back and examined the body once more. "Pleasant seeing you. I've got a killer to catch."

She gave him a salute and left the autopsy room.

The second she left she took a deep breath. She felt like she could breath again. Being in a small tight room made her claustrophobic.

She waved goodbye to the fellow office members and left the police department.

She was home, the day had been stressful enough having not been given a case. The last bit of light illuminated from behind the curtain as she fell back onto her bed, pulling the blanket over her body and curling into a fetal position.

Even when she closed her eyes for a long time, 30 minutes, 40 minutes, 1 hour passed. And nothing was budging. She didn't even fell tired but she needed to sleep. Her eyes then started to fall closed, she opened them instantly to see she was 1 hour late to work. "Are you kidding me!?"

She practically threw herself around the house getting ready.

She only did what she needed to, change clothes and put on her shoes. She didn't have time to take a shower so she just grabbed everything and left.

She skipped half of her day in a speedy rush to get to work. The traffic was pretty bad. "GREAT!" She barked.

When she finally got there she ran to her office, getting plenty of stares on the way. She sat down like nothing had happened. Though on the inside her heart was beating as fast as she left her apartment.

She went over the evidence one by one. Reading the detailed yet clumsy evidence. _Main suspect.._

The knock on the door made her bolt up off her seat. "Come in."

She sat back down, examining over the rest of the case file and so far recovered evidence.

The man who walked in was Dennis Caverly, my old client when I was a psychiatrist.

"Dennis.." She stood up from her chair. "What are you doing here?"

"To.. talk to you."

She grabbed the closest item on her desk, a stapler. "I told you, I can't help you anymore, you aren't even willing to help yourself."

"I just nee.." She cut him off.

"I don't care what you need! I quit psychiatry a long time ago and I'm done! I can't help you anymore! Get out!"

His eyes turned from fear to mean intention. My own fear reflection off them as his once depressed face formed into an evil expression.

She grimaced. "Out! Now!"

She put her arm behind her shoulder, ready to throw the stapler. "Why are you here anyway?"

"Because I'm not done yet." All emotion in his face, if any, melted away.

"What the hell do you want from me?"

Still, no emotion crossed his face, not even of pure hate. "Why.. why don't you understand yet? You're so incompetent.. You're so.. stupid. I'm not cured yet, you need to help me."

"I don't have to do jack shit with you anymore. I quit, so I'm not your psychiatrist anymore! Do I need to get a restraining order?"

That blank expression change into a smile. It seemed sincere, somehow. "No, darling, you don't. Just put down the weapon and let us talk.."

She started laughing. "No.." Part of her felt like she wanted to talk. _What is he doing..?_ She felt like he was hypnotizing her. All self-control was slipping away.

"It's okay.. I can help you with your case if you give me one thing in return."

"No." She shook her head. "I know what you want. Get out." Though, it was tempting. She wanted to solve the case. Not for fame and glory, but for the main fact that she didn't want anyone else to die. Too many people had died already.

"Give me a reason to."

"You won't go to fucking prison, how's that for a reason?"

"Why are you so angry..?"

"You're a goddamn psychopath, is why."

"Tell me why you think that, darling.." He replied in a soothing voice.

"NO!" She went to the phone, but the man swiftly pulled out a picture that made her fall back in to her seat.

All her memories filled her head at the same time. A picture of a better time. A picture of when she was in love. With him.

"No.." She bowed her head. "I... please... why... go away... stop terrorizing me!"

"I can't stop terrorizing you with the facts, darling." He chuckled. "I guess it's hard not to use facts and point out the obvious. You're still in love with me, dear."

"NO!" She stood up, from outside the glass windows that stared into her office, people were staring. "I'm not! How retarded do you have to be to think that!?"

"You.." He was cut of with an eager voice.

She let out a groan. "No.." She covered her ears and broke into quiet sobs. "Get out of my head.." She was so easy to manipulate. She was intelligent, but he was much more.. controlling. He could manipulate anyone he wanted to. Make them feel any emotion he wanted them to. And they wouldn't even know it was him doing it.

"Just give me what I want and I'll never speak to you again."

"What do you want, you don't want _help_ with your illness. What do you really want?"

"You." He looked so calm and confident. Though he'd never be the person she fell in love with again.

"Why? So you can hurt me again..?"

"No.." He whispered.

"No, I don't care if you torture me to death, I'm not going with you. I'm done." At this time she was just mindlessly saying no at reflex.

"Fair enough.." He left the room, and she let out a relieved sighed.

Her coworker walked in with a concerned look. "What was with you and that guy?"

"Don't ask questions. Just make sure he never comes back into this building, understand?"

He raised an eyebrow and shrugged. "Okay." He left with caution.

At this point she couldn't concentrate. As if he left a parasite inside her head to snack on her when he couldn't. He laid her head on the desk and clasped her hands behind her neck. "Why me.. I should have been paying closer attention to him.. I wish I could've helped him.."

She sighed and lifted her head back up. She had a murderer to catch.

"The Distraction Killer.." She whispered under her breath. "Need to stay focused on what this is all about."

She clenched her jaw, picked up a pen and paper and scribbled about.

After a few hours she'd called it a night. She headed home and contemplated the recent events. _How the hell did he find where I work?_

_Wow, I can imagine what people think about me now.. Pathetic, weak, and easy to manipulate._ She sighed and pulled into the apartment complex.

_No, I need to stop thinking all this, it's just what he wants me to thing so I'll lower my guard. _She looked around her, at the surroundings. She looked up into the sky. She hoped she'd be able to quit soon. To get out here. Instead she gets to be where ever she doesn't.

She walked into the building and into her apartment. She sat down at her desk and put her forehead on the desk. _I have a pretty boring life.. Sure, I may capture a bad guy every now and then. But I have a horrible life.. I'd wake up, get ready for work, then leave. Then I come home, and do this. Sulk._

She stood up and sighed, and as always, walked to her counter and grabbed a bottle of whiskey. "Wish I had something stronger.." She sipped straight out of the bottle. She hoped this would kill some of the memories. The memories of her shooting him, her partner. _Should've payed more effing attention._

She groaned and sat in the corner of the kitchen area. Would this be her life forever? _I guess it's too late for me to change my life now. To change the world. It's too late now. What was I thinking? Saving lives from criminals to make the world a better place? The world would never be a better place._

She took another sip from the bottle and sighed. There was a knock on the door. _Give me a break._ She put the lid back on the drink and put it back in the cabinet.

She walked to the door, almost stumbling, and answered it.

Her ex. Her non-psycho but close ex. "What do you want, Jacob?"

"Uhm, just came to talk."

She sighed and opened the door. He had a bag in his hands.

"Now just tell me what you need to talk about." She closed the door behind her.

"So you're a girl, right? You're good talking about other girls, right?"

She rolled her eyes, yet found it funny due to the amount of alcohol in her system. "No, I'm a platypus. Yes, Jacob. I'm a girl."

"It was a joke.. I was just asking if you were good with talking about girls.. Because you seem better at talking about guys. That's a compliment. Because.. in kiddy terms.. _tom-boys_ are actually pretty cool as well. And you seem to be one. I seriously mean that with the dearest of respect."

She chuckled to that comment, "What is it?"

He put the bag on to the counter. "A uh.. current girlfriend is being kind of.. spoiled. But I really don't want to end the relationship because up to now she was amazing."

She snooped in the bag and found a half drunken bottle of wine. _Jackpot._

"Uh, yeah. You can have the rest of that if you want."

She pulled out the bottle and held it. "And so.. what's she doing exactly?" She asked.

"Turns out she only liked me for my money. She always passes by a store when we go somewhere, and asks me for something from it. Makes me feel a bit sick. That's all she talks to me about now."

"So, if she was nice up until now.. And she turns out to have just been using you this whole time. Maybe I'm just drunk, but maybe she wasn't nice up until this moment. She was just acting so, that way she could get in to your pocket. In return for.." She hiccuped. "You know what.. at least you get something out of it."

"Actually, that doesn't seem too bad in that case."

She gave him an upset glance.

"It was a joke! Calm down!" He chuckled. "Yeah, I remember your sense of humor fades when you're drunk."

She smiled. "No wonder you broke up with me."

He shook his head. "No, it was a mistake compared to dating all those other girls."

She sat down on a stool and put down the wine. "Rude!"

"I meant that in all due respect." He smiled.

"Yeah.. yeah.. 'course you did.." She smirked back at him.

"I guess you're right. She isn't the girl I thought she was.. S-sorry for bothering you." He stood up.

"No, it's alright. Stay for awhile. It's good to be able to talk to someone other than my boss for a change."

"_Okay_.. I'll stay for awhile longer."

She grabbed two wine glasses from her cabinet whilst he just sat there. She poured the remainder of the drink into the glasses. She raised one glass, while he grabbed the other.

"To... psycho-assholes!" She joked.

"To psycho-assholes." He grinned.

_Finally, a break from her normal routine. Even if it's just a quick conversation with an ex, it's something._

She took a sip from the wine, and he put his glass down. _Wait... I might be drunk, but..._

"You might need to sit down.." He whispered.

"What the hell is going on...?" She began to feel lightheaded, drowsy. She fell down onto her couch. _Shit..._

"You... drugged me." Her speech was getting slurred, from something more than just the alcohol.

"I did what I had to. He isn't the only one after you. And I was the only one close enough to you to get you."

"You don't understand what... he did to me. He fr-"

He cut her off with a soft voice. "Shh... Just go to sleep."

"Fuck you." She muttered under her breath. Though she had no choice but to "go to sleep". Her consciousness slipped out from under her.

* * *

~ Present

"Then..." She sighed. "That's when I was kidnapped. Shit, I'm sorry if I stressed you out."

"No, I understand how it feels to let it out." He flashed a reassuring smile. "But, if you don't mind, you were cut off near the end... What happened? He freh?"

"He framed me for his murder." She looked down, she always hated reminding herself of that day.

"Goddamn. I guess we both had messed up lives in the past."

She nodded. "I've gotta go, you try and sleep it off if you can..."

He nodded back, though he bit his lower lip in confliction.

* * *

She left, just to feel the pain she felt all over again. Any ounce of hope to get over her own drug addiction, gone.

* * *

**A/N:** Sorry for the horribly written episode, I'm still a bit depressed.


End file.
